Music is the voice to the soul
by MegatronLove
Summary: If no ones there, who can help her with her problems? OCXEd?


**A/N:Just popped into my head and I decided to write it. I don't even know how most of this came up, it just flowed after a while. Might be alittle confusing. Sorry. Hope you like it!**

Growing up is never easy, especially when you have to do it alone. Two years, seven months, and twelve days. Alone.

I was always told that you need to cherish your childhood, because it will be what you look back on as you grow up. I just want to forget it all. Why sit through the pain when there are ways to get rid of it? Alcohol makes me forget; vodka in particular. I'm seventeen years old and I already have a drinking problem. Every day is spent looking for a drink wherever I can get it and trying to forget the pain, the loss, and the suffering that I endure on a daily basis. It's easier to forget; you might as well instead of trying to fight it.

OoOoOoO

Should I be sad over both my parent's deaths? Because I'm not. I'm sitting in the house that I grew up in, the house that held all my memories, both good and bad. Peering into the little living room with all the people dressed in black surrounding the two caskets. From my seat in the dining room I can see the people's facial expressions; sadness, grief, pain. I just feel empty, like I don't have the ability to be sad over the people who gave me life. They were never around; I had gotten used to being alone most of the time while they were out of town. They had finally been coming back after traveling around the world for a little over two years, but they never made it home.

It was the shock of realization that they would never come back that left me numb and empty on the inside. The car crash - four vehicles, three people dead - was real. They are never coming back. There are seven stages to grief, but I feel as though I skipped the first six steps and am now at acceptance. They are dead and never coming back.

I was used to them not being here, so there was no difference to the way I lived my life after they died. Wake up, get ready, go to school and do nothing, go to my crap job, come home and drink. The best part of it all was that no one cared enough to stop me. My best friend Haylee had moved a few months ago and I just stopped trying to make friends. It was easier that way. There was no one to judge me, no one to tell me what to do, and no one watching me slowly drown myself in vodka every night. That's just the way life is, now it's time to move on.

The goal for today was to get no one to look at me with sadness in their eyes and come to say that they were so sorry about my parents dying. I didn't want to have to lie and say that I'd really cared about them. The day was moving along quickly and the funeral was supposed to end at the cemetery. After they lower the caskets I can quietly leave. Blending in was always natural to me. I wasn't particularly pretty and with my plain brown hair and eyes I was easy to glance over and forget about. I hope that this is what saves me today.

Watching the caskets being lowered into the ground was easy; what was hard was dealing with the attendee's gazes. They were looking towards me, expecting me to cry or show some emotion. I stuck with my neutral expression until the ceremony was over. Finally there was a chance to escape. The crowd moved towards their cars to go to the luncheon that I had decided to skip and I began walking in the opposite direction. Mission accomplished; time to go and finish my night with a few cold ones.

I heard a loud, obnoxious, screeching voice trailing after me calling my name. Crap, too soon. I tried to ignore the voice and walk a little faster. I knew it was over when she grabbed my arm and forcefully turned me around to face her.

"Tiffany Marie Hoffman, where do you think you are heading? You should be going to the luncheon with the rest of the family," my aunt Kimberly scolded. She was my personal hell, always trying to stick her nose into everybody's business when she didn't have anything to do with it. An all-around pain in the ass.

"I'm going home," I said to her in a pissed-off tone, trying to glare at her with enough anger that she'd explode. It didn't work.

"It's not proper to stay alone in that house, what if something happens to you and no one's there to help you? Come stay with one of us until you find somewhere to live permanently." She ignores my glaring, thinking that I'm just sad.

"I have done fine on my own long enough, I don't need your or anyone else's petty help. Goodbye." I turned around and stalked off, leaving her to stare at me with nothing else to say. Walking back to my place after the encounter took only a little time. Quickly going up the three steps to my porch and unlocking the door was easy enough.

I went to my room to change out of the uncomfortable dress and into something cozy. The inside of the house was run down but I didn't care much, it's not like anyone came over to criticize it. Opening the fridge for a can of beer and the freezer for the vodka, I sat at one of the three chairs surrounding the small breakfast table. No need for the other two; it's just me here now. Quickly downing the beer and pouring a shot, I raised the small glass toward the center of the empty table,

"Cheers."

OoOoOoO

"What the hell?"

I woke up to my head pounding like a kid was using it as a drum set. "Where am I?" All I could see around me was the color white.

I slowly stood, holding my head like it would fall off, before turning around. A gigantic, intimidating door stood before me. A white figure floated a few feet away from it. I stared at the blank face and before it broke into a freakish-looking smile.

"Hello Tiffany, it's nice to finally meet you," the white thing said.

Umm. Houston, we have a problem.

**Well that was the first chapter. What did you think? I would like feed back if I should continue this or not. Please review and tell me what you think!**

**-M**


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